Litfolio 2019

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TA B L E O F C O N T E N T S

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The Sixth of May by Ann Geron

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May 7, 2018

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Untitled

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Grabe Pala sa UP by Ramon Tena

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Maliit na Bagay by Enrique Bautista

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Puzzling

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Untitled by Lana Rafaela

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Komodo by Samsa

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Untitled

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L I T F O L I O

T H E S I X T H O F M AY Ann Geron

It starts the same, every year You sigh over drinks And talk about life’s mishaps Until you realize you might be too old for this

E C H O E S

When the pace begins to quicken Your heart assumes its position In the broken glass of a love forgotten Until you realize you are too old for this

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Time goes… on, on, and on.

It moves until memories become hazy Yet my vision is fixed on you And I realize I will never get tired of this

M A Y 2 0 1 9

Time stops, but I can go on, on, and on.

About my sighs over you My life’s mishaps without you How I would grow old with you As slowly as the clock ticks To greet us with a new day I see the same things in the familiar you I feel the same things for only you But my vision becomes hazy And I try to shake the feeling away Because I cannot be sad on the sixth of May It starts the same, every year.

We’ve gotten too old for this.

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L I T F O L I O

M AY 7 , 2 0 1 8 Anon

I struggle to write.

It is as if the words I know are never enough to show what I feel.

Prose turns to dust, and my feelings are like fish.

They swim on and are eaten by the cycle of vulnerability and regret.

I struggle to say.

I hear you, and the acoustics fade into silence - until nothing.

No words come. Nothing.

I try to type it, to write, but prose turns to dust, and my feelings are like fish, and I am repeating what I say, but now my feelings are turning into a shark.

I struggle to be.

For someone fearless enough to swim with a short fin, I fear what the world will think.

I am caught in the waves of insecurity, and I kick until I reach stable ground.

I feel like an island, but the continents make me feel so small.

I struggle to love.

The language of your body is a vocabulary I cannot comprehend. I remember I struggle

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to write. I remember I struggle to say. I struggle to be.

Now my feelings are a shark, but I am not falling prey to regret.

So I will love.

But I realize sharks are fish too, and my feelings are still fish.

I am still vulnerable, and my fin is too short.

But fish are smarter and more fearless than you think, and I recall I struggle to love.

But when it comes to you, I will struggle every day if I had to.

With my fears and through pipes, I will swim. Until I reach you.

Until no words have to be written, nothing has to be said, no waves will wash me away, and there is no struggle.

There is a great barrier between you and I. Sometimes I would feel too much and be too scared. I struggle.

Then I remember I am a fish, and like the fish I am, Through the open seas, I will swim‌ back to you.

L I T F O L I O

UNTITLED

Anon

You’ve heard it said before - I am learning, I have no regrets, I am okay.

Last year I looked into your eyes, marveling at the new lessons you picked up in a short time.

It was captivating… how you navigated through the stones of judgment and the boulders of chance… the way you stood by your choices even if that meant getting knocked on the head…

You smiled. Just a bit. No toothy grin or slight chuckle. The joy showed in the cadence of your voice, the little stories you told... You were learning, flying into new atmospheres.

You were over the moon… and you always wanted to get there.

E C H O E S

Last month you finally got back to writing. Your stories were an honest portrayal of life on the moon… how heavenly it was to be up high, but when you looked around you realized you’re floating on your own. And when you landed back on earth, you fell into its core. Huh. That’s no problem. You’ve gotten stuck before. It’s no different now.

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But it was. I saw the light in your eyes die and the passion that burned fiercely within you flicker… It almost went off. No one told you about this. By trying new things and “reaching for the stars”, you had to be capable of breathing without oxygen. When the apparatus gives in, you’ll be left to your own devices. This independence was dressed-up isolation; an eventual detachment from the world. You were taught to fend for yourself, but you didn’t learn to trust and ask for help. You were so sure about your strength. Now here you are, gasping for air with no one to save you, because you wouldn’t let anyone in.

You kept everything in - the vicious, terrifying, the beautiful. Eventually, you dug your own hole into the centre of the earth. You fell in and even now that you’re blazing with anger, you cannot get out.

M A Y 2 0 1 9

Last week I looked at your sunken eyes and your trembling hands. As I held them, I felt no life. You’ve been sick for so long your body’s gotten used to working subpar. It was as if every part of you was taken away by your recklessness and curiosity and passion and energy until you cannot even remember what your spirit looks like. You can’t fall asleep at night and get up in the morning. You pray for health and rest but you get doctor’s appointments and choppy conversations at 4 in the morning with a man who last year you were writing about. He won’t give you what you deserve. Now you’re three 3 days shy from the Sixth of May, and really we’re all tired of this.

Yesterday I stopped looking in the mirror. I glanced away from the sadness that reflected back at me. No flowery words or attempts at poetry can say it as clearly as this: you cannot hide behind your strength for too long. We are too old for this… and fish, they die. Sadness, however, is a trickier thing. It claws at you and hits you harder than tequila.

It hangs over your head until you get it out of your system.

Today, I’m the happiest I’ve been in weeks. I don’t know why, really. I woke up a different person, and it’s been a relief. This is temporary, surely. You’ve heard it said before. I am learning, I have no regrets, believe me. I am not okay. That’s okay.

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FL EI T A FT O U LR IE OS

G R A B E PA L A S A U P Ram on Tena gabi-gabing nalang puyat para maka-uno sa isang exam na ang laman ay hindi naman tinuro pagod na pagod sa kakabasa ng mga librong kasing bigat ng bato at kasing kapal ng mukha ko na isiping kaya ko pala ito ang tres at cinco na dating pangbilang ng kendi lang ay nakakapangilabot kapag hinarap na sa mga magulang nanginginig sa galit sa isinisulat na papel na mas maraming pang papel din ang kinalkal para sa bwiset na RRL bulol na bulol sa mga salitang inaalala para sa orals na 5% lang naman pero kailangan para humabol sa pasadong marka pinupuntahan bawat incentive na binigay sa babakasakaling malaki ang bonus na sa bagsak na exam ilalagay nag-Novena sa Santa Clara at panay panalangin sa Panginoon na sana mag-curve ang prof kong gago grabe pala sa UP pero sa bawat araw na sumisikat ay bagong liwanag ang dumadako sa aking mga mata gabi-gabing napapawi ang dala-dalang pagod at puyat sa mumunting pakikipag-usap sa mga kaibigan pagod na pagod sa mga gala na nagtapos kung saan-saan at kung saan mga bagong alaala pinuno ng ngiti at tawa mga lakad na hindi na mabilang ang dami gamit ang mga daliri at mga kalokohan na sariwang-sariwa pa sa isip bulol na bulol sa mga kwentong hindi na matapos subalit puro na katatawanan bago pa makarating sa dulo

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L I T F O L I O

pinupuntahan bawat party, sleepover o kain na pwede puntahan makasama lang ang tropa kahit isang gabi lamang sa mga espesyal na okasyon na hindi kayang palampasin baka kasi magalit si best friend na namiss mo kanyang birthday oo nga, grabe nga talaga ang UP, grabe ang hirap, grabe ang pagod pero sa bawat paglubog ng araw, grabe rin pala ang mga kaibigan at grabe rin pala ang saya

E C H O E S

kaya ngayon na malapit na aking paglisan ang tanging mabanggit ng labi ay grabe, UP mahal talaga kita pero sa bawat araw na sumisikat ay bagong liwanag ang dumadako sa aking mga mata gabi-gabing napapawi ang dala-dalang pagod at puyat sa mumunting pakikipag-usap sa mga kaibigan

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pagod na pagod sa mga gala na nagtapos kung saan-saan at kung saan mga bagong alaala pinuno ng ngiti at tawa

M A Y

mga lakad na hindi na mabilang ang dami gamit ang mga daliri at mga kalokohan na sariwang-sariwa pa sa isip

2 0 1 9

bulol na bulol sa mga kwentong hindi na matapos subalit puro na katatawanan bago pa makarating sa dulo pinupuntahan bawat party, sleepover o kain na pwede puntahan makasama lang ang tropa kahit isang gabi lamang sa mga espesyal na okasyon na hindi kayang palampasin baka kasi magalit si best friend na namiss mo kanyang birthday oo nga, grabe nga talaga ang UP, grabe ang hirap, grabe ang pagod pero sa bawat paglubog ng araw, grabe rin pala ang mga kaibigan at grabe rin pala ang saya kaya ngayon na malapit na aking paglisan ang tanging mabanggit ng labi ay grabe, UP mahal talaga kita

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L I T F O L I O

Enrique Bautista

E C H O E S

M A L I I T N A B A G AY

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Ngunit minsan may isang maliit na rason o bagay Parang maliit na tinik na nagdadala ng aray Na tungkol sa kanya, nagdadala ng away Ng lungkot, Ng takot at kalaunan paghihiwalay Ang sakit kasi konti na lang okay na talaga Perpekto ang lahat, pwera ang problemang nagiisa Alam mong kailangan bumitaw kasi mahal mo siya Dahil di bababa sa langit ang nais mo sa kanya Siguro dumarating sila bilang patunay sa iyo Na kaya mong magmahal at mahalin nang buong puso Na kaya mong magparaya kahit magisa sa dulo Na kailangan mo pang hanapin ang nais na paraiso

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2 0 1 9

Tuwing kayo’y magkasama gumagaan ang lahat isang tingin mula sa kanya, langit ang katapat Bawat hawak, yakap, halik ay sapat Para masabing para sayo, siya ang dapat

M A Y

Minsan tunay na nakakapagtaka Kung bakit may taong darating bigla Kakaibang emosyon ang dala Ang tingin mo sa mundo’t sarili ay naiiba

L I T F O L I O

PUZZLING Anon

I don’t know who I am

from the barrage of

I’m a messy cocktail drink

arrows of the people who tried

One part confusion

to change me

and one part insanity

turned into stone and rubble,

I’m bombarded with

and wave after wave,

attributes and labels

they came and conquered

that I force myself to fit

as every part of me

I built a map inside my heart,

sank into the abyss of everything

but I just can’t seem to find

that was not me

the answers to give clearance

as I convinced myself

to the questions in my mind:

that I don’t know who I am

what I am doing here,

I’m a different piece of cloth

who do i truly want to be,

sewn on a different quilt

where am i meant to be?

The torrent of crippling emotions,

I am know strong and independent

a feeling of uncertainty,

in every sense possible,

and a feeling of loneliness,

at least I think I am,

because I’ll only ever be

but all the walls and towers

a lonely and imperfect weed

I built to protect myself

in a beautiful and perfect rose garden \

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L I T F O L I O

UNTITLED Lana Rafaela

let me tell you something: no one is going to look at you, broken and shattered and think damn, you are beautiful. no one is going to come pick up your broken pieces off the floor and assemble them into a beautiful whole. hell, you won’t even look at yourself and think I made broken look beautiful. you know why? because all those writers lied to you. yes, all those with their poems of scraped knuckles and blood dripping down chins, pomegranate songs and loves that ripped through you like hurricanes. liars. so you and i, we are going to make a plan. you are not going to romanticize days when your brain tells you to smash that mirror, you are not going to romanticize the lover who doesn’t understand you but still writes about you. here is what you are going to romanticize instead: you are going to romanticize the first day of spring, its gentle hands all over your body, lifting you up until you are as light as a feather. you are going to romanticize the tea and honey kind of love, no hurricanes, but sunshine that builds you up from within, that helps you make it through the worst days. you are going to romanticize gentle hands of a friend in yours, telling you that it is going to be okay. because it is. and don’t trust poets, we’re no good, we love pretending that our jagged edges tantamount to a beautiful disaster, but in reality -

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L I T F O L I O

E C H O E S

there ain’t nothing beautiful about shaky hands holding a cigarette and empty eyes staring at the cracks in the walls. you know what is beautiful, instead? the days when you can look at yourself in the mirror and smile, scars and all. music that makes your soul flow like a river, books that offer comfort, families flocking together like overgrown birds to keep you safe and warm, friends that give you strength when you can find none, lovers who make you laugh through tears. baby, from now on you are going to romanticize healing; honey dripping down your fingertips, August nights that stick to your skin, the day you find your purpose, long car rides and singing so loud that no one can shut you up now.

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bad news: no one is coming to save you. good news: you can save yourself.

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L I T F O L I O

KO M O D O Samsa I still don’t know why you left Maybe you wished I was nicer Maybe you wished I was nice less What if I had better biceps

A surgeon with a sharpie Sketching scribbles where I’m ugly Slice me with your scalpel Palpate organs as you f*ck me

And plucked each pair of pincers Off like petals on a primrose And sucked the marrow out of slits You scissored in my skin folds I am a Komodo dragon Basking in the winter sun I amble through the island To the tick-tock of my flickering tongue And think about your last words

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And heaved me out on dry land And we were never ourselves You wedged your nails into me And you cracked apart my hard shell

M A R C H

I know I’m not enough You wanted someone that could be more You hooked my flesh on metal While I scuttled through the sea floor

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And we could leave the lights on Big fluorescent tube-lamps Put your pupil to the eyepiece Watch me dance behind the screw clamps

E C H O E S

I always felt like some experiment Some thing that you could dissect A frog splayed on a table You the scientist with a pipette

L I T F O L I O

UNTITLED Anon

Bakit natin pinipilit maging buo?

Na punan ang lahat ng butas ng disenyo At ang masama pa nito Hinahanap ang huling piraso, sa isang tao Kaya naman ang unang taong dumating Na magbigay ng konting pagmamahal at pagtingin Pinipilit ipasok at pagkasiyahin Sa parte ng pagkatao na dapat lang sa atin E C H O E S

Marahil sumasangay ito sa takot maging mag-isa Na magkapuwang dahil walang sinisinta Gustong tumulad sa mga kaibigang may kasama Maging buo tulad ng bida sa pelikula

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Kaya sa dulo napapagod, nasasaktan Tinitiis ang isang taong di para sayo kailanman Basta hindi mag-isa, kahit ang relasyon, walang pupuntahan Di alam, gumagawa lamang ng mas malaking kawalan

M A R C H 2 0 1 6

Eh kung tratuhin ang di pagiging buo bilang tiyansiya lumago Eh kung ang mga puwang ay punuin ng kaibigan at pagkatuto Di baleng may butas ang yong pagkatao Kesa naman magdusa kasama ng taong di para sayo

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